


A Light Through the Fog

by thegirlwhoknits



Series: We Learned the Sea [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, M/M, Mates, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finds out what Peter's been hiding from him and has to man up and make a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light Through the Fog

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to [Evil_Erato](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Erato/pseuds/Evil_Erato) for her betaing skills and helping me tweak my smut!
> 
> And I have a question for all you lovelies following this: is Steter your main ship, secondary ship, or did you just stumble in here by accident? (You're welcome either way!) I'm just curious because Steter is my OTP, though I love some Sterek too, and I'm interested to see how many of us there are.

By Friday, the day before they were supposed to leave, Stiles was doing almost as badly as when they arrived, though for different reasons.  Peter still allowed him to sleep curled next to him, and didn’t stop offering the casual touches they’d grown used to, but Stiles was twitchy and apologetic about accepting them.  It didn’t help that his body kept betraying his own attraction: while he slept, when Peter sat too close to him, and, memorably, the day before last when he could swear he heard Peter moaning in the shower.  (He may have indulged that thought a bit the next time he took one himself.)

This afternoon, they were sitting next to each other on the sofa; not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other’s warmth.  The silence that had fallen was not entirely comfortable. Peter was ostensibly reading, but he hadn’t turned a page in nearly thirty minutes.  Stiles was scrolling idly through his Tumblr dash, resting his gaze on the flow of images while his mind churned.

Stiles’s head was a mess.  It was one thing when he’d thought what was going on between them was just mutual attraction, but he’d never been in a relationship of any kind, let alone with someone like Peter.  It wasn’t an issue of trust at all, weirdly.  Stiles knew the rest of the pack didn’t trust Derek’s uncle, which was understandable.  He made no secret of the fact that his ambition was to be an Alpha again.  But Stiles thought they overlooked a lot of important factors behind that: the man had lost his whole family in the most horrific way possible, and then spent years helpless, at the mercy of a psychotic nurse.  It seemed only natural that he would want to have as much control as possible. It wasn’t just about power—it was the urge to protect the people he loved _._

Like he protected Stiles.  Looking back, he could see that Peter had always tried to protect him; at first by keeping him out of the line of fire, but then as he began recognizing Stiles’s abilities and his new Emissary training, by providing him with support and personally watching his back.  Like they were…partners.

Something tickled the edge of his memory.  He’d done some research for Scott back when he was first turned and they were still suspicious of Derek, stuff about werewolf sexuality.  He hadn’t given it much thought since, at least not academically (some of the porn out there, man…). He rearranged himself on the sofa, wedging his feet underneath Peter’s thighs and balancing his laptop on his knees.  The werewolf absently rested his hand on Stiles’s legs, finally turning a page with the other hand.

Stiles pulled up some of the documents he’d put together as part of his efforts to compile his own bestiary. It was one of Deaton’s training assignments, and it had come in handy on multiple occasions.  The pages were organized around his peculiar thought patterns, which made doing research much faster and more intuitive.  Now he pulled up everything he had on werewolf sexuality and relationships, poring through it with an intensity usually reserved for imminent threats to life and limb.

Half an hour later, he jerked upright so abruptly he nearly dumped the laptop on the floor.  Pushing it safely onto the cushions instead, he jumped to his feet, pacing the room and tugging at his hair in agitation.  Peter laid his book aside and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern, but waited for him to speak first.

Finally he stopped, clenching his fists and looking at the werewolf with wild eyes.  “Why didn’t you tell me, Peter?” he asked tightly.  “How could you not _tell me._   You’ve known since the beginning, haven’t you?!”  He was shouting now, and Peter winced.

“What are you talking about, Stiles?” he asked carefully. His face was a mask of neutrality.

“We’re _mates,_ aren’t we?” Stiles hissed.  “When you offered me the bite, in the parking garage, that was a _mating bite.”_

The werewolf paled a bit, but didn’t deny it.  “In my defense, I was mostly acting on instinct at the time.  And if you weren’t my mate, it would have just turned you as usual.  Or killed you,” he added as an afterthought.

“That’s supposed to make it _better?_ ”

Peter dropped his gaze to his lap.  “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Something about his quiet tone calmed Stiles immediately, and he plopped down on the coffee table in front of the older man.  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.  It’s not like the idea of us being mates is some horrible thing or something.  It’s just…I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve only ever kissed three people including you, and werewolves mate for _life._   It’s a lot to process.”

“I know, and I wanted to wait before telling you.  But then—”

“Then I threw myself at you, and made everything even more complicated,” Stiles finished ruefully.  “It…does help, a little, to know what all this is about.  I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I realize that being around you, even before this week, makes me feel settled, somehow.  I’ve always been more comfortable around you than the rest of the pack was, even when we were enemies.  And _godimattractedtoyou,”_ he finished in a rush.

Peter’s eyes flashed blue as he lifted his gaze to meet Stiles’s.  “So what do we do now?”

“Ugh, I don’t know!” Stiles tugged at his hair again. “On the one hand I just want to drag you to bed and spend the next twelve hours letting you molest me…” Peter answered this suggestion with a low, rumbling growl that sent shivers down the teen’s spine. “But on the other hand, did we go over the whole _werewolves mate for life_ thing?”

“You know, technically the mating bond isn’t cemented until both parties accept the mating bite.  There’s usually a ceremony.”  Peter gave Stiles his trademark manipulative-bastard smirk, and Stiles felt his confusion melt into a white-hot puddle of lust at the base of his spine. Suddenly there didn’t seem to be quite enough air in the room.

He tried to say something, realized his mouth was already open, shut it, then tried again. “I, umm… uhh… UGH!”  He flung himself up off the table and grabbed his jacket off a chair.  “Look, I’m not mad, or even upset or anything, but is it okay if I go for a walk? I need to think about this without you sitting there being all…” he waved in Peter’s direction vaguely, “you.”

“Take your time,” Peter said carelessly, picking up his book again and reclining on the sofa.  Stiles was almost too distracted to notice the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth, but sometime over the last week, the werewolf’s face had become an open book to him.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised softly, and left.

 

The solitude of the wooded hiking path was cool and comforting.  Stiles went only far enough to lose sight of the resort, then collapsed on a log, head cradled in his hands.  Breathing in the mountain air seemed to calm his swirling thoughts, and after a while he finally felt clear-headed enough to think rationally.

What were his actual options here?  Stiles considered the research he’d read through earlier.  Obviously they both felt the mating pull.  In theory, since Stiles was human he could resist the pull, but for Peter this was basically it—if Stiles rejected him, he’d most likely have to leave the pack to avoid being driven crazy by his wolf.  He’d be an omega, losing the only family he had left.  Or Stiles could leave, leaving his dad and all his friends behind.

Yes, committing to the bond was a big step for Stiles, especially in light of his inexperience with relationships, but the mating pull didn’t occur for no reason.  The pair affected had to be compatible on a deep level, in such a way that they were, effectively, what humans would call “soulmates.”  Not all wolves felt the pull; mostly they made do with ordinary love, or even just political alliances.

So his options were: resist the pull, severing either Peter or himself from Pack and family, or accept the bond and be mated to a man he had to admit he could no longer imagine living without.  _It sounds so simple, boiled down,_ he thought.  Of course, the bond didn’t have to be consummated right away, but it seemed silly now that he’d made the hard part of the decision to forgo the _fun_ part.

Feeling lighter than he had in months, he turned his steps back to the resort, and his mate.

 

Peter didn’t look up when he entered the room, but Stiles saw his neck jerk from resisting the urge.  “That didn’t take long,” he said noncommittally.

“Yeah, well.” Stiles shrugged off his jacket. “Turns out hiking isn’t as much fun without my mate.” 

The werewolf’s head whipped up to gaze sharply at Stiles, who was grinning like a maniac.  “Come here,” he growled, eyes flashing.

Stiles grinned wider and practically jumped into his arms.

 

Kissing Peter was everything, especially now that he knew they weren’t going to stop.  Their clothes came off as quickly as possible—he might have heard something rip—and they pressed together like skin-to-skin wasn’t close enough.  He needed more, and with the one functioning brain cell he had left, Stiles hauled Peter over to the bed after the first three minutes, because if they didn’t do it then they were going to have sex on the floor, and just NO.  That carpet looked like it was just itching to inflict some serious rugburn.

The bed, on the other hand, was cool and soft against Stiles’s back, a contrast to the feverish heat of Peter’s body, setting him on fire everywhere it touched.  The werewolf worked his way down from Stiles’s mouth, dragging teeth and tongue across his collarbone and down to his nipples. Stiles was open-mouthed and panting, his head pressing deeply into the mattress as Peter continued his discovery of his body, licking and sucking and leaving marks anywhere they wouldn’t show.  Stiles would have congratulated him on his presence of mind if he’d had any himself.  It would seriously suck for his dad to kill his mate.

 _My mate,_ he thought wonderingly, fiercely, as he arched up into Peter’s touch on his cock, the slick of lube he applied cool against his overheated skin.  “Oh god, Peter, yes!”  The werewolf’s fingers were sure and steady, an extension of the solid presence that anchored Stiles’s nervous energy.  Right now they kept his focus on the path they were tracing up his inner thighs, fingertips smooth and cooler than the rest of his body.  When Peter finally cupped his balls with his other hand, Stiles threw his head back and moaned shamelessly.

He felt the older man’s smirk as he bit lightly at Stiles’s nipples, sending shockwaves all the way down to his toes.  He moaned as he tangled his hands in Peter’s hair and pulled him up to kiss him again.  “Mine,” Peter growled before claiming his mouth.

“God yes, Peter, yours. Always yours.” The last part came out a little strangled as Peter lined up their cocks and wrapped his hand around them both.  Stiles really wanted his mate inside him, but everything was too intense, too impatient this time for either of them to last that long.  They still had a good sixteen hours before checkout, anyway. 

It felt so good to have Peter covering him, his weight pressing down, face buried in the crook of Stiles’s neck.  It made Stiles feel _owned,_ protected, safe; made him feel like he belonged to Peter, belonged with his mate, in a way he never knew he wanted.  The wolf’s breath was hot and ragged, and he kept repeating, “God, Stiles, _mine_ , you feel so good,” as he sucked and bit at Stiles’s pale, markable skin. In response Stiles could only moan and rut shamelessly against his mate with whatever leverage he could muster.  The slide of his cock against Peter’s sent sparks shooting everywhere, and the older man alternately tightened and loosened his grip, teasingly, drawing it out.  Stiles was torn between growling in frustration and praying it would never end.

All too soon he felt his pleasure building, almost unbearably hot, and then something else; like an echo, a ghost of Peter’s emotions. Love, lust, and a fierce possessiveness that took what was left of Stiles’s breath away.  With it came a weird sort of double image, his own face superimposed against Peter’s.  He shut his eyes as Peter came, hard, the feeling more intense than it had ever been on his own, Peter holding him through it and crying his name and Stiles was coming, too, or had he gone first and this was Peter? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore.  Either way, the white-hot pleasure kept pulsing through his blood, and Stiles (Peter?) threw his head back and _howled._

**Author's Note:**

> So, our boys have finally gotten their acts together, but THIS IS NOT THE END! I imagine the Pack's gonna have a few things to say about this turn of events... Stay tuned! (P.S. The next part probably won't be up until after Christmas as I'm busy working on a super-secret special project.)


End file.
